


Wily's Revenge

by Aladayle



Category: Megaman 10, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Elderly Concerns, Geriatric Problems, He's Not A Boy Scout But Its Nicer Than He Was Before, Other, Sort Of, Villain Redemption, Wily Is A Jerk, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23541862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aladayle/pseuds/Aladayle
Summary: After his fall in Megaman 10, Dr. Wily's hands endure such damage that he can no longer work on any further projects. He is settled into a nursing home where he stews about his many grievances--until fate hands him the opportunity for revenge.But what good is revenge when the object of it is no longer aware?Tags of various kinds will be added as situations arise and other characters appear.
Relationships: Dr. Light & Dr. Wily
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Libet Delay

### Libet Delay

The nursing home was not as bad as it could have been. There were robotic assistants all over the place, tending to every need that the inhabitants had. Companionship, if one desired it, could be summoned at all hours of the day or night, and of course the television had every possible channel one could ask for. 

He didn't talk to many people, though, robotic or otherwise. Those assigned to the 'wing' he was settled in, maybe, as they needed to know his condition and deliver medications and food, but otherwise he left well enough alone. 

It was better that way; he was too infamous to make friends even if he wanted them. It was safer to avoid them in the first place, rather than have to hear 'THE Dr. Wily? The evil one? I thought you'd be in prison!' or, from the more inhibition-impaired residents, a whack over the head with a cane or whatever object was at hand. 

He had space between himself and the other residents in his corridor, and he liked it that way. 

But that would change today. A few months ago, they told him that there would be someone new in the room next to his. He had spent the last few years quite (un)happily having three rooms between him and the next occupant, allowing him to stew or shout if it pleased him. Now, though... 

"You should go outside," the robotic nurse interrupted his thoughts as she stepped away from him, removing the scanner that she had been holding over his chest. "Your heart and lungs would thank you for the exercise, Albert." 

"I don't want to go outside," he grumbled, not even looking at her. She always did this, always bugged him to get up and go about the place, if not outside to get some sun. He didn't much care for it, but she always seemed to get what she wanted. 

"You have to at least take a walk. Your body needs the exercise--" 

"Alright. Alright, I'll go. Help me get my clothes on, I don't want to go walking around in my bathrobe." He wasn't like the rest of the inhabitants here, he wanted to keep his dignity intact. 

The nurse did exactly that. Wily was able to get his shirt and pants and shoes on just fine, but buttoning and lacing were beyond the capabilities of his shaking hands. It had been an ongoing fight early on in his residence here; the nurse had had to insist, over and over, that he not frustrate himself with tasks he couldn't complete on his own. There was no shame in being assisted, that was what she was there for. 

So he had given in, cursing all the time the weakness of his hands. 

Then they set off. She walked him around the facility's public garden, and chatted idly about the birds and the flowers. He replied with sentences of one word, and only with the barest interest. These nurses were not human, they would not take offense to this approach.On the contrary, his nurse was glad that he talked at all. 

"It is a beautiful spring," she said to him, trying to smile as they walked, "We will have to start giving you something for the pollen." 

"I can deal with a runny nose," Wily brushed it off. His ankles were already aching terribly, but he wasn't going to stop and ask to sit. He wasn't like the other people here. He could stand a little pain if it meant feeling less like he was a prisoner in some jail. Even if, for all intents and purposes, it was precisely that. 

When they returned to the corridor where his room was, he noticed that the door to the next room over was ajar; from inside came a voice he hadn't heard in years. 

"I need to work! Why won't you let me work? Rock! Rock--" 

That was Light's voice. Curiosity and anger combined, Wily made sure to look inside as he passed. 

"ALBERT!" 

It was unavoidable, their eyes meeting, and the second Light saw him he rushed right out, with two robotic nurses following him out. 

"Albert, you have to talk sense into these two," he said desperately, gesturing to the two nurses, "Rock and Roll are trying to keep me away from the lab, and you KNOW how important the Robot Master project is!" 

Wily had been ready to yell, to ask the man he hated most in the world what the hell he was thinking, getting a room in this place RIGHT ON HIS OTHER SIDE... 

Now? There was nothing but shock.


	2. Tangles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems more like a cruel joke than anything, but there it is, right in front of him.

### Tangles

It took several days before he decided to endure the presence of others in the rec room and head for its computer console to have his nurse help him look up details on what had happened to Light. That was a ruse, it had to be. The man would _never_... 

It was a joke. Something the man was doing to gain sympathy, likely because he knew it was the end of the road if he was here. That was it, that was all. It had to be. 

But when it was looked up, Wily found all the proof he needed. 

"Dr. Light Diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease," one article said, giving a date that had come soon after Wily's fall, "Says Light's designated heir, 'I have faith that he will remain well long enough to see to his affairs and arrange for his work to continue.'" That had come in the form of the boy, Rock, or whatever he was going by these days. Annoying little do-gooder that he was, of course he would attempt to carry on his "father's" legacy. 

Another article from the same source came a year and a half later, during an interview the article-writer had gotten with Rock. "My father," one quote went, "Has declined more rapidly than I expected. The doctors have explained that his prognosis was not helped by his personal habits--he was often found in the lab at all hours, and would often forget to eat or take any relevant medications if he was 'onto something good.' After some...incidents, I thought a break would do him good. If anyone had earned a rest, it was him." 

"How did he take it?" the reporter had asked. 

"Not well," Rock had replied, "It pained me to see, but he only grew worse when removed from the lab. It was like--like the spark went out of him. He insisted he was well enough. He insisted he could do the work again, he hated to be useless. But..." 

"But?" 

"It was then that I realized the extent of what had been going on, and that his condition had gone on for longer than I'd known. While setting up the lab for a short work session, I noticed he had set up several programs to...assist him if he forgot what he was doing, or what project he was on, or even where he was. It became--it became clear that he needed more assistance than he was letting on." 

"No one who loves their work wants to leave it. He likely knew you, or others, would remove him from the lab if you discovered the extent of his condition." 

"And he was right. I knew it was the right thing to do, but he was so...unhappy. He trusted me, he said, to take care of him--once we got the diagnosis--but it still hurt both of us. I hope you never have to see what I saw that day--a man so afraid he was losing his mind asking you to...to see him taken care of. Roll was there with me, and neither of us knew what to say. We couldn't assure him that it would be alright. This is--this isn't an enemy I can fight. There was no battle I could go through to make him well again. All we could do was promise him that we would take care of him as the disease advanced." 

Then, another article just a few months prior, and shorter than the last. Dr. Light's condition had worsened further, and care was being arranged. 

Wily didn't read the rest of it. The rest of it didn't matter. What mattered right now was that someone had put this senile old man on his other side. Hadn't they thought of him at all? Had this been some kind of sick joke? 

Maybe some bleeding heart thought that it would help them bury the hatchet. 

Well, whoever it was, their plan wouldn't work. That was one grudge he would take to his grave. 

Wily scanned over the suggested articles in the sidebar after that, all with pictures of Light and cut-off titles. LIGHT'S LIFE'S WORK - A..., LIGHT'S MIND - WHAT THE D..., DR LIGHT TELLS ALL; CON... and shook his head. Not a word of him. Of course not. 

* * *

It was more morbid curiosity than anything else that lead him to actually make the trip to the rec room once again after lunchtime. There was bingo going on in one corner, a book club over in that one, and a small crowd gathered around one old woman at the piano. Light was somewhere in the middle with his own attendant, yet another robotic nurse. 

He sat down one or two tables over, feigning interest in a game of chess. The nurse advised against it, owing to her robotic (and therefore undefeatable) nature, but Wily had made a life of attempting to defeat the undefeatable, and there was little gain in stopping now. The point wasn't to win at this stage anyway, but to learn. 

"When is Rock coming back?" 

Light was staring, not at whatever he was doing on the table, but somewhere vaguely in the direction of his robotic nurse. 

"Tomorrow, doctor." 

"He always comes today. I want him to be here today." 

"He is taking care of the lab in your absence," the nurse said, "An emergency has come up. He cannot come today." 

Wily looked back to his own nurse. Of course. Rock was more like Light than he'd probably admit to himself. Neglecting what he shouldn't, because of the newness of the work, or whatever miracle he was cooking up. 

"And does Rock visit him often?" he asked his own nurse. 

"I am not permitted to say," she replied, "I can say that he has had visitors before he came here, but not who they were or when these visits occurred." 

"What CAN you inform me about, exactly? Surely you can tell me what the news has reported." 

"That I can do," she agreed. 

"Who put him here?" 

"He did," the nurse said, gesturing with her hand in Light's direction. "Several articles report that when he became aware of the depth of the loss he was looking at, he arranged for his future care." 

"Here. He arranged to be put here. Why?" As if he didn't already know. Perhaps Light wanted to force a reconciliation, thinking that in that warped condition he would have no choice but to cooperate. No. If he thought that, he'd have another thing coming. 

"That has not been reported on."

"What--" 

He stopped when he heard his name from Light's direction. 

"Albert should be here, too. I should have him here." 

"He can't be here today, either." 

"I need to talk to him. I've done it. I've done it this time." Light's tone seemed insistent, but without that sadness from before, when he was asking for Rock. "I want him here." 

"I want coffee," Wily said suddenly to his nurse. Light wanted to see him, fine. He'd see him. 

The nurse went with him, to ensure his coffee was adequately dosed with cream and sugar and to be sure nothing was spilled during the process. Wily let her carry it back, and made sure to walk on the other side of Light's table, so the man would see him. Here I am, the motion practically screamed. Speak to me. 

But Light didn't speak. The man looked up at him in passing, yes, but... 

...he was staring, dumbly, and looking straight through Wily, as if he wasn't even there.


	3. Transient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light is visited by Rock and Roll; Rock is not pleased by Wily's observations.

### Transient

"They are watching!" 

"Will you shut him up?" Wily snapped at Light's robotic nurse, and tried to turn back to his datapad book. He regretted coming to the rec room now to gawk at the imbecile. This had happened several times, though the last few the nurse had been able to settle Light. This time it didn't look possible. 

Light looked--desperate, almost, like he knew what he wanted to say but it wasn't coming out. Or perhaps he knew something was wrong, but couldn't figure out why. 

Wily didn't care. 

He didn't. 

"Watching," Light said slower, "Everyone watching." 

"Yes, doctor, he knows," the nurse said. She tried to redirect him to his lunch, and though he ate, there was still talk of watching. 

"People were watching." 

"No one is watching now, doctor. Everything is well." A smile appeared on her face. "Alright?" 

"They--" 

He looked up at Wily again, shaking his head. "They watched me talk, and I talked and told them." 

"Yes, doctor, now I remember. You did go on television, didn't you?" 

Light nodded. "I had to. It was...it was...past time. A long time since I should have done it. I knew it, but I never did until then." 

Of course, WIly thought. He was probably remembering some stupid conference he'd done. Maybe a convention, who knew. Everyone no doubt hung onto his every word there, just like they always had. 

He left soon after that, feigning interest in a round of chess with his nurse. He'd seen enough. 

* * *

Weeks passed. 

Wily kept coming to the rec room, mainly to keep an eye on light, and he couldn't stifle the discomfort in his gut. As much as he hated Light, as much as he wanted the man to suffer... 

...he wanted the man to _know_ it was HIM who was causing the suffering. This? This was...he didn't know what it was. He felt cheated, angry at the brain that had been so brilliant in the beginning, so sleazy when he took all the credit, and so patronizing when Wily himself was put away into this hole. He wasn't sure what to feel. 

What victory was there to be gained here? There was nothing. Nothing but decline and defeat. 

It was not even consistent, this malady. One day Light would sound mostly comprehensible and would eat his lunch without needing much prompting or help. The next he might refuse to eat, claiming they were sedating him so he couldn't go back to the lab. Sometimes he was even combative, and had to be removed from the room entirely. 

And sometimes Rock visited, making things sometimes better and sometimes worse. He usually brought Roll with him, and she was there today, helping Light drink from his glass of water. 

"Things have been going well," Rock said, "At the lab. They say the new ethical testing is--" 

"X," Light said suddenly, seeming panicked, "You saw X?" 

"No, doctor," Rock said, voice shaky, "No. I don't see X. We're testing a few of the concepts you tried to instill, but--" 

Wily looked back at his lunch at that, and tried to ignore the rest of the conversation. The boy seemed to be working on a new line of robotic helpers, these ones with extra attention paid to their personalities right out of the gate instead of letting them develop naturally. 

He got up, got coffee, came back (watching Light all the time)... 

...and completely failed to ignore the conversation taking place as Rock and Roll were getting up to leave. His curiosity was too great--how would today's visit end? In relative calm, or in childish fits? 

"It's not the same without you," Roll was saying, "We'll come back in a few days, alright?" 

"Can I go with you?" He'd grabbed her by the hand. 

"No, father," Rock said, gently removing Light's hand, and setting it back down on the table. He looked at his father's nurse and said something in a low voice that Wily couldn't hear. 

Then he looked up and over in Wily's direction, and his face turned dark. 

He marched over in a hurry, eyes narrowed. "He is not a zoo animal to gawk at." 

"I--" 

"Are you happy with this?" Rock snapped, "Do you do this every day? Sit there laughing to yourself about not even having to kill him yourself? Is this funny to you?" 

"No," Wily replied, "I'm not bothering him, what do you care if I watch him?" 

"He gave you what you wanted. Can't you leave him in peace?" 

Fist clenched. Wily saw Roll take Rock's other hand and tug it away, then said, "Rock, let's just go. We have work to do anyway." 

"I don't know what you're talking about. He's given me nothing," Wily retorted, "Nothing but a lifetime of defeats." 

"He told everyone what happened between the two of you. Isn't that enough?" 

"He did what?" 

This was news to Wily. If Light had spoken up, no doubt he would put a spin on it. He hadn't meant to, or some thing like that. But he had had years upon years to do it, so why-- 

Rock tugged his arm away from Roll, and stormed off. 

"You really don't know?" Roll said softly, meeting his eyes. "That he told everyone." 

"All I've seen is articles on his Alzheimer's," Wily replied, "When I came here I didn't seek out any information on him. He is the last thing I wanted to think about while I was here." 

"Oh, I--" Roll paused, seeming to collect herself before speaking again, "Father went on a talk show and told everyone about it, right after getting his diagnosis. He said it was a long time coming and that he owed it to you. Look it up, I promise I'm not lying to you." 

Then she left. 

"Fine," he said under his breath, "I'll look up the stupid video." 

He mentioned it to his robotic nurse, and she moved with him, over to the console in the rec room. She typed in all the search queries, and chose the longest video. 

DR LIGHT TELLS ALL; CONFESSES TO BEING 'THE CATALYST' OF HIS OWN ENEMY


	4. Watched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wily watches the video he was told about; Light has a lucid conversation with Wily.

### Watched

"That's quite a thing to confess," the talk show host said, "You claim that Wily's actions are your fault?" 

"Yes and no," Light said, "A man makes his own decisions in life. If I chose to kill someone, the fault lies with me, no matter how much he may have insulted me. But at the same time--at the same time, I won't ignore that I _contributed_ to the situation. A barrel of gunpowder doesn't just randomly explode. There has to be a spark...or rather, a series of sparks." 

The host nodded gravely. "Tell me about that, then." 

"I always meant to clear things up, but my head...I was so enthralled by the success, and it was so _easy_ to put it off. And every time chipped away at Albert a little more. And when we parted ways--there seemed not to be a point in it. He wouldn't have come back, I told myself, even if I did tell the truth of the matter." 

He looked away. 

"If I could turn back time, I would be honest from the start. But I can't do that. All I can do is say what I should have said years ago. The success I have enjoyed was half, at least, Albert's. I can never give back what I took from him; all I can give him now is the satisfaction that I'll suffer for it. That I'll lose the one part of my body that I cherished the most. My mind." 

The host asked for small details here and there, but the gist of it was over. 

* * *

He'd seen the confession. 

Wily took a deep breath. 

He was not a man who was often overcome with emotion, but they all seemed to hit him at once. Sorrow, rage, relief...some long-dead part of him clawed its way up, and his eyes misted up. It mingled with the anger that it had taken so long for the man to confess, and yet at the same time there was relief that everyone knew. His name was still mud, but perhaps now it was sympathetic mud. It would strike pity in some hearts. 

How he hated the thought. 

He'd half-expected to be angry, but to be angry at the thing as a whole--that it felt so wasteful, that if Light had come down from his high horse, all this would have been prevented. They'd still be working together, and who knew where their work would have gone. 

He wouldn't have carried this grudge for so long. 

As he'd thought before, there was no gladness in this--his revenge was shorn of its sweetness, no matter how Light had tried to present it. Years of hatred, of work to bring the man down, and it was no machine to do it, but the man's own mind. 

_But would you have been able to stop?_ the thought came, _Would you have been satisfied with a confession, with the credit, once you'd started down that path?_

If he had done it before he'd gone mad, would it have been enough? 

Wily was surprised to find himself answering with a maybe. 

Maybe. 

But now, years later, with them both old and grey...now, when Light was an imbecile, and fell more into the void every day. Now that his brain was choked with plaques and tangles that starved and murdered the neurons, that would eventually take everything. 

Now it felt as though there was no point. What would it matter if he had a change of heart? It was far too late. 

_I never wanted it to go this way. This isn't how I wanted my revenge_. It wasn't a fair fight--it wasn't a fight anyone could really win. If he "won" at all, 

The man who'd once been his best friend was no more. He had lost the brilliance of his mind, and Wily, the dexterity of his hands. 

Both of us are crippled, Wily thought. I have nothing to win against anyway. 

The Zero project would mean little with nothing of Light's to be superior _to_. 

* * *

Lucidity was rarer and rarer, but it was there. Sometimes it lasted only a few seconds, and once or twice Wily was there to see it. In the rec room, or the cafeteria, he could see the recognition when Light turned to look around the room, and saw him--there was shame, guilt in that gaze. 

Another glimpse, weeks later. Wily was outside, being forced once more to walk for his own health--he stumbled across Light, sitting by a fountain with his own nurse. 

Light looked up, and the guilt crossed his face again. 

Irritation, pity... 

"Do you even know who I am?" 

Wily had tried to walk by, but the look sparked off annoyance anyway, and he gave in to curiosity. 

"I know who you are." Light's voice was choked with sudden emotion, "Albert. Albert, I know who you are." 

He sounded excited, fearful, miserable--and he was shaking like a leaf. 

"It's alright, doctor," his nurse said, patting his arm. "Take a deep breath." 

"Maybe we should move on," Wily's nurse said, "I don't think this would be a constructive use of your time." 

"It's alright," Light said, "I want to talk to him...I don't know how long I have. I'm not like this very much. I wake up sitting or standing somewhere and I lose time every time it happens." 

Wily liked to think he was well past the point of caring. He'd spent years doing nothing but hating this man, and even now that he'd seen how far the mighty had fallen--he'd thought it was impossible for anything positive to stir for the man. But here he was, and there _it_ was. 

"I wanted to beat you," Wily said, "I didn't want to beat you like this. I wanted to win because I was better, not because your brain was rotting." 

"You'll win in the future. After--after today. If X doesn't get the power...my work will fail." There was frustration in his face; clearly what came out of his mouth was not what he meant to say. 

"What do you mean?" 

There was a pause. A long, and uncomfortable pause. 

He waited. But nothing came of it. 

Light's lucidity was gone again.


	5. Late Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What X is, is finally determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying desperately to keep to the original 5 chapters I had planned, but the idea stretched out and evolved on its own. Apologies, I guess? Hope you enjoy reading anyway!

### Late Stage

The X project was mentioned several more times over the next few months, that Wily heard of. His nurse couldn't tell him what was being said in the privacy of Light's own room, as that would be a violation of some sort of medical law or the other. But she _could_ tell him what was said in common areas. 

X. X. He kept mentioning it left and right, asking if his nurse had seen X, is X's status green, was the programming done right? He was even in the lunchroom when the man said it once, but what it was for, he wasn't entirely sure. At first he'd thought maybe it was just some project he'd abandoned, or whatever he'd been forced away from when he had to leave the lab for good. Then he thought it must be some lab designation or the other. A code name, of sorts. It had to do with something in the lab though--he knew that much, nothing but the lab would inspire this kind of fanatic obsession from Light. 

"I'm glad you're taking an interest," she said after telling him of yet another mention of X. "You haven't been so attentive to anything since you got here." 

"I don't care," Wily protested, "I'm just wondering what this X could be." 

He had said, hadn't he, that Wily would win if his X project failed... 

There was his Zero project, his last triumph. He'd set it up, and in time it would be ready. It would destroy anything that came out of Light's lab.

During one of Light's increasingly rare lucid moments (that he was present for) he made it a point to ask. The man had been awake and aware of himself and of his surroundings and situation for close to fifteen minutes now, an absolute miracle if what he'd read was true. "What is X?" 

"Another project," Light said quietly. The guilty look hadn't appeared this time--there was only this strange aura of silence, even when he spoke. A sort of despair that pushed off the worry. "One that would go beyond what Rock and Roll were." 

"Not some new way to put me in my place?" 

He watched Light closely, searching for any sign of duplicity. The darting of eyes, the look to the side, the rubbing together of hands. He looked at Light's nurse, who was conveniently ignoring what was before her. So long as they didn't do anything rash, or attempt to harm one another in some way, she would appear to ignore them. Light was lucid and relatively happy, and causing no trouble. 

There wasn't any discernible duplicity, from anyone. 

What there was, was sadness. But not the frantic guilty sadness of before--this was a deep unpleasant resignation. The sort of resignation he'd felt, after getting the news that work with his hands had become impossible. After he'd lost what was most important to him. 

"No, no, that's never what I wanted. This is what we worked towards, starting with the Robot Masters. A new race to live alongside humanity. If I'd had you there with me, it would've been done by now. We'd have had it out, before I ever...before..." 

He shook his head. 

"Still there?" 

"Yes," Light said softly. "I just...had to shake off the cobwebs. Did you--have a project?" 

"Yes," Wily glanced aside, "Not one like your X. Not, as the nurses would put it, with a positive goal in mind." 

"I wish I could--" 

"You can't," Wily cut in, "You can't change anything now. I've--I've already designed it with hate in mind. There's nothing I can do to change it now." 

Why? Why had he spilled that? What had come over him? That confession didn't earn Light anything. All it had done was give him a small piece, a fraction, a crumb of what he deserved. It hadn't made up for everything, he shouldn't even have _thought_ of responding that way to it! And yet, he had. He had. 

"What if there was?" 

_You aren't jailbreaking me, and you know it,_ Wily thought. He didn't dare say it, not in front of the nurses. They'd report it to someone, and he'd have more nurses on him, or guards, or whatever. No, that was the worst of this. There had been a lightening of the dark cloud he'd carried with him for years and years, but there could not be a real break. He was confined here, to rot in the stagnation, to decay in the mire. 

Besides, Light would never stay together long enough to help him do anything--if he even took the help. If it was even offered. 

If I give in, he wins. If I change, he wins. It had been like a mantra to Wily for so long he would repeat it like a chanted spell, until the words didn't sound real anymore. 

But for the first time in years... 

...he felt dark, angry, but not as if changing was impossible. 

A speck of hope, but a speck was infinitely more than what he had had in a very long time.


End file.
